


Try to Try Again

by Kelenloth



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Everybody Lives, I seem to have formed a habit of fixing video games that end in death, not really a romance yet but may be one later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelenloth/pseuds/Kelenloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after her promise to not mess with time, Max did not hesitate for a moment to fight against fate once more, grappling against destiny with nothing but her tiny, human hands. My attempt to avoid contradicting canon as much as possible while providing a better ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of notes, sorry:  
> 1\. Right now this is just a one-shot. I have vague plans for more but it might be a while/never. I'd like to write at least one more chapter.  
> 2\. I chose, and I think I will always choose, the Bay>Bae ending, and I know that's very unpopular. I wanted to honor Chloe's self-sacrificing request and her love, and could not live with the idea that Joyce might die. That said I hate the idea of Max just sitting there. In this story it is not Chloe's death which prevents the storm, but the firing of Nathan's gun.

"MOVE!" Max shouted before she even knew what she was doing. A moment later Nathan was on the ground, although Max could not remember shoving him, and Max was on her knees.

She had to stop this. No matter what Chloe said she simply couldn't let her die.

The world was a blur of red and blue, time somersaulting around her, frozen but quicker than thought all at once. Within moments her hands were covered in dark crimson blood as she pressed desperately against her best friend's side.

"Call 911!" She found herself shouting to Nathan, who was probably still crying on the floor. Max spared no thought for him, her world collapsing as she felt Chloe's life slipping through her fingers.

"You're gonna be alright, Chloe, you're gonna-" The mantra fought against everything Max already knew was true. She has been through this. Chloe Price had to die.

Even after her promise to let this be, Max did not hesitate for a moment to fight against fate once more, this time without her powers, grappling against destiny with nothing but her tiny, human hands.

"Freeze!" The bathroom door burst open, and Max did not even glance up to see David Madsen with his gun drawn. “What in- Chloe!” He shouted, but did not lower his weapon as he took in the scene. Max heard the gun which Nathan had dropped slide along the floor, and barely registered the boy’s mumbled apologies, followed by the click of handcuffs and a hurried growl of curses and threats.

Moments later a strong pair of hands was moving aside her own to cover the dying girl's wound. "What have you done?!" She could hear the officer shout at Nathan, but none of that mattered now.

"She needs an ambulance!" Max protested, although everyone could see that was true.

"One's on its way" she heard, although she could not even tell if the voice was David or Nathan's, nor did she care.

"Hang in there soldier!" David commanded his step daughter as he rolled her limp form over to a more stable position. Chloe's eyes were half lidded, rolled slightly back into her head. Max moved closer, looking for any sign of life - a pulse, a breath, an eye movement.

"She's alive, Max, for now." David's gruff voice reassured, tinged with a sense of panic and sorrow that Max had only heard him use once before, in the Dark Room. "There's a first aid kit in the hall." He did not have to say anything more before Max rose and found herself muttering a quick "Yes sir."

She had not noticed the concerned, chaotic crowed gathered in the hall by the sound of a gunshot until she was already shoving through them with bloody hands. She vaguely heard Principal Wells desperately trying to herd the students outside and call the police all at once. Alarms were going off. By the time she returned one of the teachers, Mrs. Grant, had joined Mr. Madsen on her knees. "Can you hear us Chloe? Just keep breathing. You're going to be alright."

In moments Chloe's shirt was open and David was field-dressing her wound. Seconds later the sirens of the ambulance were heard and Max found herself shoved to the side with the cry of "Make way!"

The next few minutes were utter chaos for Max. "Chloe!" She called as she was shoved away from the dying girl’s side. The paramedics quickly loaded their charge into the van and Max scrambled and shoved her way towards them. “Wait! Let me-“ But it was too late.

The doors shut with a resounding THUNK and the ambulance sped away. She could not begrudge it’s speed – the only hope Chloe had of staying alive – but as the van whizzed away from her view, Max knew she should have been in there with her friend.

In a daze, Max turned back to Blackwell, and tried to make sense of this new reality, a reality she had never before had the nerve to see. The chaos nearly consumed her.

“Yes I need to report a shooting – Blackwell Academy…” President Wells was on the phone.

“Everyone out! Come on, we’ve been over this!” A few of the teachers were trying to regain control.

“Who was she?”

“I can’t believe it!”

“What happened?” Students shoved their way past.

“MAX!” A voice called her name burst through the crowd. It was Warren. After everything, she had almost forgotten that he was still here, in this other world, a world where she hadn’t even returned his flash drive yet. “Max what happened? Are you alright?” He touched her shoulder, and the contact snapped her out of her hurried thoughts. This was real: real life, and it couldn’t be undone. Not again. “Max you-“

“I need to get to the hospital.” It was the first thing she said, and she said it in a tone Warren had never heard her use.

“Max are you-“

“Warren, please. She’s my friend.”

“Uhh, okay…” Warren glanced around. The teachers were still frantically trying to round everyone up into an orderly fashion, to follow the shots-fired procedure, but it was no use. Warren grabbed Max by her wrist and the two darted for the parking lot.

It was only after he took her arm that Max remembered that both of her hands were still covered in blood. Chloe’s blood. She had lost so much blood. Max could not look at her hands, her shirt, here jeans. It was everywhere.

“I was gonna show my new ride today, but I didn’t think it would be like this.” Warren said as they ran up. He opened the passenger door for her, and Max tried not to get blood on his car.

“This is yours?” She tried to humor him. The car could not be a surprise this time, but she tried her best to act impressed. He was helping her after all. “It’s cool. Very old school.”

Warren threw himself into the driver’s seat like he was in an action movie and started the car with what he seemed to think was an impressive engine purr, but in reality merely betrayed the fact that the car likely only started fifty percent of the time. “1978 to be exact!” he proclaimed proudly as he pushed the manual transmission into gear. “After that ambulance! Let’s go, Mad Max!”

Max flinched at the name, although Warren did not seem to notice. She could not count on her hands how many times she had been called that, and worse, but it all sounded so wrong coming from anyone other than Chloe. The thought hit her that she might never hear Chloe call her that again, but she pushed it away as fast as she could.

As they sped out of Blackwell, Max caught a glimpse of one of the frustrated school officials waving at them to stop. Next to the door, she saw Nathan being led to the back of a police car. But as she glanced back another terrible reality of this world caught her eye: Mr. Jefferson. He stood with the students, near Victoria and Kate, who both stood in shock at the shooting. And no one knew. Sudden panic rose in Max’s throat. She wanted to scream at them ‘Run away!’ but she knew it would do no good. She wondered if the fateful party would be cancelled that night. She wondered if Kate would stay home, feed her rabbit, and get a good night’s sleep.

As soon as they were away, Max’s thoughts returned to Chloe. Warren was driving fast, obviously trying to impress her, but it was not fast enough. Chloe could be dying. She glanced down at the blood on her hands.

“So how did you know her?” Warren asked, trying to break the tense silence of their race. Max tried not to look too shaken.

“Childhood friend. I… I used to live in Arcadia Bay, before we moved to Seattle.” She looked out the window and watched the Two Whales speed past. Joyce. Did she even know?

“No way, really! Man, what was this place like growing up?” Warren was far too excited and far too happy about this whole thing. She tried not to fault him for trying to lighten the mood and lift the fear, but it was not what she needed.

“It was…” Max could not think of what to tell him. In her mind all she could come up with was ‘It was Chloe’. Because honestly, that was all she could remember from before they moved. Her world had been Chloe Price, Chole Price’s house, and her and Chloe’s pirate ship. She tried to distinguish her past in this world from the past few days she had experienced. None of that had happened here. Chole hadn’t shown up in her pick up, they hadn’t broken into the pool, they hadn’t found the Dark Room. They hadn’t found Rachel. But at least they still had the pirate ship. Eventually Max realized that she still hadn’t said anything. “…Nice.” She supplied at last. “How much further to the hospital? That wasn’t here when I lived here last.”

“We’re almost there, I promise.” They had been on the highway for some time now. Max couldn’t remember the name of the next town south of Arcadia Bay, but she could see it off the next exit. The hospital had it’s own ramp, which Warren took as fast as he could. “I’ll drop you off and text you when I find some parking.”

“Thanks, Warren.” Max’s thanks were genuine. For as much as her thoughts were locked on Chloe, Warren really was a good friend. She was out of his car the second it stopped at the curb, rushing into the hospital.

The entryway of the Tilllamook Regional Hospital was wide, clean, and far too calm and quiet. Max felt for a moment like she was the only sane person in the room: the only one with the good sense to panic, because Chloe Price had been shot.

As she ran up to the reception desk, the nurse’s dull “can I help you?” turned to concern at the blood on Max’s hands.

“I need to find Chloe Price.” She said quickly, “She was shot and-“ Max only then realized how much her hands and her voice were shaking.

One of the nurses nodded to the other. “Come with me, dear.” Max did her best to nod at the nurse rounded the desk.

Max was led gingerly to a nearby bathroom, where the nurse helped her clean off her hands, and made sure to check them for cuts in case Max could have been infected. “Are you her next of kin?” The woman asked calmly.

“N-no, I…” Max tried to take a deep breath. “I’m her friend, I-“

“I saw your friend come in.” The nurse stopped her before she could hyperventilate trying to explain exactly what she was to Chole. “And I can tell you that she’s still alive, and in surgery. Unfortunately I’m going to need a legal guardian here before I can share much more. Have they been notified?”

"I don’t – her step dad-" Max did not know if he really counted. "Joyce!" She cried suddenly. Joyce had to know. "Th-thank you." Max muttered as earnestly as she could as she fished her phone from her bag. The nurse nodded and said something about getting her a glass of water as they went back out into the waiting area but Max barely heard. Her heart now hung upon the soft buzzing of her phone as it rang on Joyce's end.

"Hello?" Joyce's strong, comforting accent came through. "Who is this?"

Max had nearly forgotten again. No one in this world had met her yet, not in five years. All because she was a rotten friend who never even called. Even David Madsen only knew her as a student. Did Chloe even know who she was?

"Joyce it's...it's Max." Max's breath caught, but she made it through. "Max Caulfield."

"Max Caulfield!" Joyce cheered, but before she could say how happy she was to hear Max's voice, the tone settled in. "Whatever is the matter dear?" She said, still far too cheerful.

"It's... It's Chloe, Mrs. Price." Max concentrated hard on keeping it together. Joyce deserved to hear this. "Chloe, she... She was shot." There was an expected gasp on the other side and Max wondered if Joyce had dropped the phone. First William and now this. "We're at the hospital..." Max said although she did not know if Chloe's mom could hear.

"I'm on my way." The call was cut off. Joyce's voice was deeper, more solemn and more frightened than Max has ever heard. Even the E6 tornado has not scared Joyce Price so much. Max hoped that the woman, who was like a second mother to her, did not blame her for this. The day she makes contact after a 5 year long silence, and it's to say that Chloe, her daughter and only child, might be dead.

The next several hours were pure agony. Joyce arrived, tears already streaming down her face, and immediately wrapped Max in her strong arms. Together they walked to the reception counter and Joyce immediately demanded to see her daughter.

"I'm sorry ma'am but your daughter is currently in surgery. I promise you will be informed the second the procedure is complete." Was the only response.

"Will she... Will she..." Joyce could not finish.

"She's gonna make it, right?" Max filled in for the grieving mother whose arm was still around her shoulders.

"Her condition was listed as critical upon arrival." The nurse said sadly, "But the wound was field dressed,”

"David-" Max interrupted with a whisper, but the nurse continued.

"-and she had not lost too much blood. If she can make it through the shock, we should be able to save her." The nurse told them, not looking up from the monitor from which she was reading. "She seems like a strong woman."

"She is." Joyce sobbed. Max held her tighter, thanked the nurse, and let the grieving mother to a nearby chair.

"Max..." Joyce's voice was far away, betraying the trouble she was having in making any sense of the world. "What... Happened?"

Max caught Joyce's eye, glistening with tears and begging for reason, and knew at once that she must be as honest as she could. "I.. I was in the bathroom at Blackwell. And Nathan Prescott stormed in. H-he was upset, and Chloe followed him in. I didn't even recognize her at first." Max tried to remember what it was like the very first time. "Th-they fought and Nathan pulled out a gun. I... I tried-" Max could not stop herself from sobbing now. "I tried to stop him." It was not a lie. She had tried. She had tried everything. She had stopped time, she had relived her life, she had spent a lifetime of a week all in a vain attempt to stop him. "But he shot her. Here." Max gestured to her gut, and Joyce gasped, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth and attempting to choke back even more tears.

"Nathan Prescott..." She muttered incredulously.

"David has him in police custody by now I'm sure." Max reassured her. "Nathan didn't put up a fight after... After what happened."

 _'Speak of the devil and he shall appear'_ Max thought as not two seconds later David Madsen burst through the hospital door.

"Where is Chloe?!" He demanded of the first hospital employee he saw.

"David!" Joyce called him over before the poor janitor had a chance to come up with a response.

David stomped over with the determination of ten men. "She's in surgery." Joyce told him, unfazed by the pure rage radiating off her husband. "They said... They said she might make it."

David's eyes next fell on Max, who had to stop herself from flinching from his gaze. This David had never spoken to her before today. She had not stood up for him or stopped him from hounding Kate.

"That was some good work you did back there, young lady." He said in his most civil tone. "What happened?"

Max did her best to relay the story again, and Joyce introduced her to David as Chloe's best childhood friend, gone these 5 years and back "like a guardian angel" she said. Max almost cried again at that. Some angel she was: living for a week in a world where she simply pulled the fire alarm, then returning to where she did nothing. She sat and cried and only listened as she best friend was shot. She could have stopped it. She knows she could. She had done it before. They would never believe her if she had to explain.

Explain. The word resounded in her mind. Chloe. She would have to explain all of this to Chloe. Chloe who had not seen her in the past five years. Chloe who had not rescued her from Nathan, Chloe who had not helped her break into the school, Chloe who had not shot bottles in the junk yard on her mark or almost been flattened by a train. Chloe whom she had never kissed on a dare. Chloe who had never seen the storm, had never commanded her to go back. Chloe who might still want to drop a bomb on Arcadia Bay rather than protest that everyone in it deserved to live more than her. Chloe who still looked day and night for Rachel Amber to return. Chloe who did not know about Frank or Jefferson or the Dark Room. Chloe who probably still hated her for running away. The thought hung despair in her mind like vertigo and she felt her heart drop like a physical punch in the gut. How could she ever explain? What if... What if even after she saved Chloe, they lost it all?

"I'm sorry." She felt herself saying in a broken sob before she even knew she was speaking out loud.

She heard a sniff from her right and saw Joyce curled in David's protective arms. Even in her grief, however, Joyce reached out. "It's not your fault." She said. But Max knew that it was.

No one knew how long they waited. Time had lost all sense again to Max. Time. She had not used her powers once since she came back. She wondered if she even still had them. She did not care to check.

Eventually a man with a clip board came round the corner and asked for Joyce Price. She stood at once and took both David and Max by the hand. Max tried to put as much support as she could into the grip.

"Your daughter's condition has improved." He told them quickly, to reassure them that it was good news. A physical sigh of relief washed over the small family, and Joyce sagged in her husband's arms as if she might faint. "She's not out of the woods yet, but the surgery was a success. The bullet did not pierce all the way through and missed most vital organs. We had to remove part of her intestine, and it will take time for her to heal. But she made it through the initial shock and her blood loss was minimal, for a wound of that size." David nodded sternly at the news.

"Can we see her?" Max spoke at last, surprised at how strong her own voice sounded.

"Soon." Was the response. "She is being transferred to a new room as we speak. But she’ll be unconscious for a while longer. She will need a lot of rest."

Joyce thanked the doctor profusely, but Max could barely hear. Her heart was doing somersaults. Chloe was alive. Alive! After everything, she was alive. Max could only pray that this would not bring back the storm and prepare for the worst, but it did not matter. There was no way she was going back to the start and doing this all again. Not ever. No more traveling in time. Because Chloe Price was alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well would you look at that. I commented saying I had another chapter planned and then 2 hours later I have it written up. I wish I could write my Uni essays this quickly. 
> 
> Needless to say, this has not been edited much or beta'd at all. I hope it's decently in character as I haven't played Life is Strange in several months. Thanks for reading!

Consciousness is a funny thing. Because you don’t always notice it. In fact, that’s just it – it’s how you notice things. So when it goes away, you don’t really notice. It’s funny how the whole world can go dark, and void, and silent, and you don’t really notice until it stops being all those things. Until something breaks it. Sometimes it’s all at once, sometimes it’s slowly, in and out, one sense at a time. Like falling asleep or waking up – you never quite remember when it happened or what the process felt like. You aren’t aware of it until someone of something outside of you lets you know. That’s how this was. It wasn’t exactly a blackness fading out into light. Because the blackness wasn’t a thing she could see. It just sort of happened. Like most things do. But this one turned out to be one of the most important things in her life.

She didn’t know what had happened. But somehow, she wasn’t curious. It didn’t seem to matter much. She was pretty sure she was lying down. She was fairly certain she was not dead, and was breathing. There was a dull ache below her ribs. She remembered that it had hurt. A lot. She didn’t remember why. It was warm in here. She never liked being too warm. Maybe if she could just – she tried to open her eyes.

It only took a couple of blinks to make the blurry world come into moderate focus. What was harder was making her brain do the same. To focus on one thing at a time. Light streamed in through the blinds on a window to her left. The room was white, and a sterile blue-green curtain on her right told her everything she needed to know. She was in the hospital.

Well that was enough for now. Chloe closed her eyes again. She was just so tired. Too tired to think, to see, too tired to remember. Hospital. That was bad, right? Or maybe it was good. Did she do this? She couldn’t remember. She was pretty sure that if she sent herself here she would remember. Besides, she had made a promise – years ago in a rare moment of real concern and serious communication she had made a promise, and it was one she intended on keeping, no matter how much it restrained her or what bravado she put on against it – who had she promised? _Mom_ her mind told her. A sense of warmth – the nice kind this time – dripped slowly into her mind at the thought. She was in a hospital. Her mom was going to be pissed. It almost made her want to laugh. But laughing would hurt.

_You know what would make this better?_ Chloe’s mind was wandering now. _If Max were here_. God, Max. She hadn’t thought about Max in ages. Hadn’t allowed herself to. Where had that come from? It didn’t matter, the thought was there. Max Caufield. What she wouldn’t give to be back on that pirate ship again, back with Max and with… her dad. For a blessed moment, in her drug-addled brain, everything that had happened between then and now disappeared. She remembered her mother smiling – smiling like she hadn’t seen her since that day – as she snapped a picture of the pirate ship, while her father insisted that he get to play as a shark or a kraken. It was a comfortable memory, one of the few she had left, one of the few non-taxing enough for her brain to entertain. Max Caufield. Mom’s smile. The pirate ship. And dad.

Suddenly, Chloe realized that she was hungry. Really hungry. Thirsty too. And her leg felt cramped. How long had that been going on? Perhaps she should try to open her eyes again. It was harder this time. Her eyes felt crusty, she hadn’t noticed that before. The light felt sharper. She could feel the weight of her own limbs, without even trying to move them. The ache in her side had sharpened a bit, and was accompanied by an annoying itch. Chloe did her best to look down and try to move her hand.

Chloe however found that something was in her way. Something, no someone, was laying weight on her right hand, holding it actually, and blocking her view. She realized that someone was sitting by her bed, leaning on her, their head rested half on their own arm and half on hers. Asleep. The position looked uncomfortable. Sandy, blondish hair. For a sharp moment Chloe’s mind shot to Rachel Amber, but as she successfully moved her hand, the thought was overwhelmed as she heard a very familiar gasp, and the person sprang up. It was her mom.

“Chloe!” her voice broke. Her face was red, her eyes redder. She had clearly been sobbing. Her grip tightened on Chloe’s hand, and the blue haired girl tried to give a weak smile.

“Hi mom.” Her voice was horse, and sounded strange in her own ears. Like she was still in a dream. Perhaps she was. Dreams didn’t normally hurt this much. The ache and itch in her side was still fighting for her attention, and it was winning, despite the woman in front of her.

“Oh my god, Chloe!” Joyce at once had her arms wrapped about her daughter’s shoulders, and Chloe found her face buried in her mother’s hair where it has loosed from its normally tight bun. The woman was talking, saying words quickly, stumbling and repeating herself, crying again. Chloe couldn’t really make out the words. She breathed in deeply her mother’s scent, and let her eyes close as a gentle hand came to rest on her cheek. Well, at least her mom seemed happy. That was a good sign, right? Meant she wasn’t about to die.

After allowing them to close, opening her eyes again sounded like a distinctly terrible idea. Chloe’s body smiled on instinct at the strange peace she found in the darkness as her mother fretted. She was obviously trying to explain what had happened, but somehow Chloe didn’t care enough to listen. She just needed some more rest.

“Chloe?”

Chloe’s eyes shot open at the hesitant new voice she could tell was coming from the other side of the room. Her breath caught. She knew that voice. Was she dreaming again? She was so certain she had woken up. Was she going mad?

Max Caulfield stood near the doorway, a styrofoam cup of coffee in each hand. She looked shocked, timid, and hopeful all at once. She didn’t look real. Chloe’s brain insisted that she couldn’t be real.

“M-Max?” Her voice trembled a response anyway, to the not-real girl who had just come in from the hall. She watched as Max set the coffee down on a nearby table, never breaking her gaze from Chloe, and came to stand beside Joyce. Joyce smiled, still holding Chloe’s hand, and looked between her and Max. So maybe she was real. Joyce could see her too. “Max how did…”

“I am so sorry, Chloe.” Max’s voice sounded so solid, so real, and so her. Chloe’s mouth was gaping open now as she looked on her old friend, who continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t call or write, I should have, I’m sorry I-I…” The word flooded out of Max before she could stop them, a fountain of shaking apologies that Chloe could hardly comprehend.

“Max you’re here.” Chloe stated the obvious. Max bit her lip, her eyes filled with unshed tears, and Chloe realized in a blink of clarity that Max was afraid. She did not know why. Perhaps if she was in her right mind she would. Perhaps she would be mad, be angry, feel like an apology wasn’t enough. She had a vague memory of being mad at Max before, for all the things the girl was asking for forgiveness over now. But Chloe was still staring at Max as if she were a miracle that her very dreams had brought to life. “H-how are you here?” Was all her weak voice could make out. She somehow knew it was the wrong question, but it was the only one she could think to ask.

“-I should have come and found you right away when I got back, I-“ Max was still rambling. She stopped when Joyce laid a hand on hers.

“It’s alright, Max. You’re here now. You were there when Chloe needed you most.” Joyce’s voice had stabled, and she was once again the voice of calm in the room, as she so often had been.

  
“What… happened?” Chloe finally thought to ask. Ever since she had woken up she had not actually tried to remember what happened, it somehow didn’t seem like the most important thing at the time.

“You were shot.” She heard, in Max’s voice. Shot. The word sounded like a literal gunshot in her mind. Her mind flew as she remembered that sound. Remembered the flash, and the sudden, ripping, unbelievable pain. The ache in her side seemed to pulse, and Chloe shook her head to try and make the memory go away. The rom had been blue. Blue tile on the floor. And someone called her name. Max. She remembered. Max had been there. Had that been a dream too? It sure felt like it at the time.

Max was still talking “You were at Blackwell, fighting with Nathan Prescott, do you remember?”

Even in her addled state, Chloe’s instinct of disgust kicked in. “That little shit.” She said. She heard a disapproving “Chloe.” From her mother like background noise. “That fucking rich kid shot me.”

Max nodded. She was standing now by the foot of Chloe’s bed, leaning against it. She had a hand laid gently on one of Chloe’s legs, through the blanket the covered her. Chloe was still having a hard time believing that the girl was real. But then she was having a hard time believing that she had actually been shot, when her own body was screaming painful evidence of the incident the whole time.

As Chloe gave a small groan of pain, Joyce looked around and wondered aloud why a Doctor wasn’t here, and if she should go tell someone that Chloe was awake. She squeezed her daughter’s hand one more time, bent to kiss her temple, and told the two girls to wait right there while she found a nurse – as if they were going to move. Max took Joyce’s place in the chair by Chloe’s side and moved it closer. She looked at Chloe’s hand, hesitant to take it. To Chloe’s own surprise, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Max to take her hand either.

Suddenly alone together, two estranged friends who hadn’t seen each other in years, what were they exactly? Did it matter? Chloe didn’t want to have to deal with this right now. She found herself wishing they could just go back to what they had been before. Just for now, ignore what had happened, at least until she was awake enough to think or stand or yell or cry.

“You were there.” She said, and caught Max’s unsure eye. “I remember. When I was shot, you…”

Max nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.” She said. Chloe’s brow knotted. She did not remember well enough what happened to remember how Max was involved, or even what Nathan had done. She just remembered, as the thought crossed her mind that this was the end, that she was dying, she remembered Max’s voice, Max’s face coming in to view. And here she was again, sitting beside her. Not a ghost or a memory but real. Chloe looked her up and down. Max had grown up. She did not know why she was surprised but somehow it would make sense if Max had stayed as young as she had been forever. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was just the drugs and the blood loss talking. Besides, she herself had grown up. A lot. Too much.

“David arrested him, if it helps. The police have him now…” Chloe almost recoiled at the mention of her step-father. She was about to pronounce an insult against the man, to make sure that Max, who was new to this situation, knew exactly how things stood, when Max added “He field-dressed your wound. I think he might have saved your life.”

Chloe sat in shocked silence. She really did not have a response for that. She was too tired to deal with this. God, the insufferable man was even bothering her now without even being here. Why did he have to go and complicate things like that? She would think about it later. She had to change the subject.

“You…” She tried to think. Thinking was hard. She looked up at the IV drip that was connected to her arm. She hadn’t noticed it before. She wondered what was in it. How strong of a drug did it take to make her like this? Perhaps it was better to not know. It wasn’t an unpleasant state after all, besides the pain in her side. Perhaps it was better to not know how to get back into this. Chloe looked around the room as she realized she still hadn’t finished her sentence. “You’re…” She fidgeted with her hand, picking at the blanket it lay one. “You’re back.” She said at last. She was pretty sure she had said it before but what could it hurt to say it again?

Max took a deep breath, and nodded. Chloe could tell that she was still scared. She sat with her hands in her lap, rubbing one thumb over the other. Concern was evident in her large eyes and Chloe had never known her to be this quiet and rambling at the same time. Why was she scared? Who was she scared of? Chloe would kick their ass. Max glanced nervously as Chloe’s hand and suddenly the girl in the hospital bed realized that her best friend was scared of her. Of how she would respond.

“Hey.” She said. Moving her arm at last and finding it stronger than she expected, Chloe reached out and rested her hand on Max’s own, stopping her fidgeting. “It’s good to see you.” She said. “I, uh… well thanks.”

“Chloe, you have no idea how good it is to see you again,” Max said, sounding a bit breathless, like she had been holding in this exclamation for some time and was still gasping in amazement that the moment had come. “To see you alive.” She added, and took Chloe’s hand.

Now that they were holding hands, Chloe wondered why this had been a question before. She gave Max’s grip a tight squeeze, as if to prove that she was alive indeed. She did not need to say anything else. It felt good that someone, a friend, actually wanted to see her. These days just about everyone seemed to have some level of disgust, disappointment, or dismissal when she showed up. Max looked at her like she was a miracle.

“I have so much to tell you, Chloe I don’t even know where to-“ Max stopped herself. “I don’t even know how to-“ she stopped again.

“It’s alright, you can tell me Max, but uh-“ Chloe tried her best not to yawn in the middle of her sentence but it did not work, “Maybe when my head’s, uh, a bit clearer.” She indicated the IV drip with her eyes.

“Of course, sorry-“

“Hey Max?” Chloe cut off her apology.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

She felt Max’s grip tighten on her hand. “Me too, Chloe. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have legit no idea how hospitals or high schools work, sorry if this is all very unrealistic.


End file.
